


What Percy Says

by Vault_of_Glass



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, OC Kiss Week, Poetry 'cause it's River, and Jerrod's sweet enough to listen ;v;, tending a wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Jerrod treats some of River's wounds, both old and new. He brings peace, he brings relief, and River thanks him from the heart - with poetry and kisses. For OC Kiss Week.





	What Percy Says

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vaultfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultfox/gifts).



“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?”

Jerrod chuckled and hefted River higher on his back, supporting her legs easily in his hands. “Almost forgot you were back there, actually. Probably because you’re tiny,” he added in amusement, “and shouldn’t go around jumping off of tall things.”

“Think I did more falling than jumping, to be fair,” she piped up dryly from over his shoulder and felt the laughter rumble in his chest.

“Yeah, all right. River’s never wrong, I haven’t forgotten.”

She smiled and ducked her head against his shoulder, humming low in her throat. “Thanks, Jerrod.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to look at that ankle.”

The smile quickly faded into a pout. “We do, huh?”

“Only if you like walking on it,” he joked.

River’s nose wrinkled. She’d never had much tolerance for being teased - would’ve much rather been the one teasing - but Jerrod spoke with such fondness , there was no questioning the affection to his tone. He _admired_ her stubbornness, even if it had landed her hanging onto his back like an injured child, her swollen ankle swinging limply from over his elbow.

“I was kidding, you know,” Jerrod added after a moment, his voice dipping earnestly, reading her silence as trepidation. “I’m sure your ankle’s gonna be fine, all foolhardy heroic antics aside.”

“There’ll probably be more of those in the future, anyways,” River babbled, following it with a weak laugh as the pain was beginning to throb back to life in her ankle. “Funnily enough, I only pull the _really_ stupid moves when I’m worrying about everyone around me.”

They were nearing the truck stop now, just as the beginning few drops of a rainstorm were starting to fall from the thickening clouds overhead. He carried her into the garage and hesitated in the doorway, rocking back on his heels. “I, uh…” A cautious chuckle, edging toward nervous. “ _Where do I put you?_ seems a little forward, but -”

“The couch is good,” she supplied helpfully, and squeezed his shoulder in gratitude. “You’ll have to excuse all the mess.”

“I don’t mind it,” Jerrod promised as he skirted a stack of books on the floor, lowering her onto the faded black cushions. He settled onto the coffee table across from her and cast a look around the rest of the garage, a smile shaping his lips. “Looks lived in,” he noted with a shrug, and gingerly guided her leg over his knee before reaching for his bag. “Cozy.”

The state of River’s home might’ve embarrassed her more if the med-x hadn’t tapered off, leaving her with the pulsing heavy weight of pain in the ankle she’d twisted. Eyelids drifting closed, she tipped her head back against the couch and measured her breathing, muscles tensing up in the anticipation of pain.

“Easy.” Jerrod pressed a broad, warm hand to the bend of her knee, his voice soft and nearly lost to the rain pattering against the metal roof overhead, and the faint trace of an old memory tickled at the back of her thoughts: Sinatra crooning from a radio on the windowsill, _You’d be so easy to love, so easy to idolize all others above_ \- her parents, dancing in the kitchen, still young and in love, before her father had to travel all the time, before her mother's depression stole the smile from her face -

_Jesus, maybe there is still a little med-x in my system._

Her eyes blinked open, chasing the memory away with the cracks in the ceiling, the string of lights that lined the garage, glowing dully overhead, then the crease of concern between Jerrod’s brows, his smile fading to uncertainty.

“You still with me?”

River nodded, and placed her fingers reassuringly over his hand. “I’m good. Promise.”

The smile returned, more relief now than amusement, and she decided she quite liked the look of it on him; there was comfort, in a smile like that. “I have to get this boot off. Try not to move too much, all right?”

She laughed, then, and made a show of getting comfortable on the couch, tried to keep the smirk out of her voice when she answered, “I’m not going anywhere, handsome.”

Jerrod’s fingers paused for the briefest moment, halfway through the laces of her boot, and he didn’t lift his head, but she caught the twitch to his lips as he cleared his throat. When he started working her boot free, she had to trap a groan behind her teeth, knuckles white as her nails curled into the couch cushions.

“Almost… _got it_.” They both sighed in relief once her foot was free, and compared to the rest of her slender leg, the swelling in her ankle was already rather noticeable. He peeled back her jeans and the faded white cotton of her sock, deftly, delicately, with a steadiness to his fingers that she envied. “Ah, this doesn’t look too bad,” he said in a thoughtful tone, and River let her eyes slip closed again as he tugged her sock off and set it aside. “Could probably use some wrapping, and definitely some rest, but I think you’ll be all right.”

“I trust you,” she replied simply, smiling. “Maybe a little conversation, to keep me distracted?”

“Hmm.” She heard him rustling through his bag, stiffened briefly when he steadied her leg in his hands, biting down on her lip to hold back a gasp. “Do you always paint your toenails?” he asked, as he started winding a length of elastic cloth around the sole of her foot.

“Y'never know who might see them,” River answered with a quiet laugh, easing her breath out slowly. “Case in point.”

“Can’t argue that.” Jerrod’s voice was calm as he wrapped her ankle, still warmed by that edge of fondness that made her feel - _not alone_.

“I’m just glad someone got to appreciate them,” she added with a pointed wiggle of her toes, and that won another low breath of laughter out of him. “Even if it’s when he’s patching me up.” She lifted her head and found herself meeting his gaze, an earnest sort of curiosity in the dark brown there. “Thank you, by the way. I really do appreciate it.”

“Least I could do after you leapt from a bus to come rescue me.”

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned, but couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Would you hate me if I said I saw a bloatfly and lost my footing?”

Jerrod shook his head, grinning. “Never,” he promised.

“You can laugh if you want. It’s a little funny, at least.”

He fastened the bandage in place with a few skillfully placed bobby pins and inspected his work, eventually nodded in satisfaction. “You’ll need to stay off of it,” he told her with a meaningful look.

River glanced over toward the other side of the room, nibbling at her lip.

He laughed. “What do you need?”

“If you wouldn’t mind fetching me that brush from the dresser?”

Jerrod propped her leg up on a stack of books on the coffee table before stalking across the room for the tarnished silver brush atop her dresser. River shrugged out of her coat and reached for the end of her braid, pulling the elastic band out and starting to unweave the dampened white strands.

“Would you like some help?” he offered, a waver of uncertainty touching his voice.

“Please.” River angled her back to him as he took a seat beside her, lifting her braid gently from her hands. His fingers moved through her hair tentatively at first, then with more confidence as she leaned into his touch, teasing loose tangles in the long, soft tresses. “You’re spoiling me now.”

“You, ah… make it easy to,” he admitted after a moment, pausing to work the brush gently through some of the more stubborn tangles.

“That so?” She hummed low in her throat, finding his knee beneath her hand and giving it a fond squeeze. Eventually the brush ran smoothly through her hair, silk-soft and tangle-free, and Jerrod gathered the tresses up in his hands, parting them into thirds and starting to weave them back into a braid. It was soothing, and comforting, and wholly, truly _good_ , in a way nothing ever seemed to be anymore; she felt herself relaxing into the heat of his body behind her, into the lovely sensation of his fingers in her hair, something familiar and divine, like an old poem, one she hadn’t thought of in years - and remembering the long-forgotten verses filled her with a well of gratitude.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” Jerrod teased.

“Not yet.” She laughed. “I just… can’t remember the last time I felt this peaceful. Nice moments like this always bring poetry to mind.”

“Feel like sharing?”

“You don’t want to listen to me rattle off old poems.”

“Of course I do,” he shot back easily. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere, and neither am I, so you might as well.”

She glanced back at him skeptically, but the smile on his face was eager, expectant, waiting patiently for her to speak. “It’s a short poem,” she said, tracing her fingers along a tear in the couch cushion. “I think of it often, when I’m happy. Or sometimes when I’m sad. When I forget what’s important. It’s called _I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life_.”

Jerrod made a small noise of encouragement, catching a few stray strands of hair and weaving them back into place before continuing down her braid. “And what does Percy say?”

“ _Love, love, love, says Percy._  
_And hurry as fast as you can_  
_along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust._

 _Then, go to sleep._  
_Give up your body heat, your beating heart._  
_Then, trust_.”

River felt him wrapping the elastic band back around her braid, then his hand curling warm around her shoulder as he leaned in to press his lips to the crown of her head. “He tells you the same thing every time, huh?” he muttered, his voice edging toward breathless.

Her cheeks went warm under the weight of his gaze as she turned to face him. “Well, he hasn’t led me wrong yet.” She smiled, and just caught the widening to his eyes before she kissed him - softly, gratefully, because she’d been thinking about it all day, and the little laugh he voiced against her lips felt like an actual _blessing_ on top of all he’d done for her already.

Jerrod blinked in surprise when she pulled away, then smiled down at her. “Yeah, I can see that,” he chuckled.

River stared at him intensely, stifling giggles into her teeth, biting down hard into her bottom lip to hold them back, but they broke loose nonetheless.

“What?” he demanded, brows furrowing self-consciously as he lifted a hand to his face.

She reached up to wipe away the remnants of her lipstick, and he laughed at the purple that came away on her fingertips. She pressed a kiss instead to the knuckles of his hand, and they left the violet stain there, a mark of relief, of gratitude - for body heat, for a beating heart, for trust.

**Author's Note:**

>  _I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life_ by Mary Oliver.


End file.
